Something Permanent
by Zivacentric
Summary: Established Zibbs. Ziva is overwhelmed by the depth of her feelings for Gibbs and has convinced herself he doesn't quite feel forever here, so she does something rash. Can Gibbs get to her in time to save them both? Rated T just to be safe.
1. Gray Skies

_**A/N:** This story is dedicated to Kesterpan, whose vague prompt percolated with a random line from a song and a mood I was in to produce this fic. xoxoxo, my friend. _

_It was supposed to be a one-shot (stop laughing out there, those of you who know me well), but once it hit over 8,000 words, I figured it should at least be a two-shot. The chapters will be long, but this one is an emotional piece and I do not want to interrupt the flow to the point that those who read it can't connect with that in a visceral manner. It is my hope that my words evoke within you the same emotions that Ziva and Gibbs are feeling, even struggling with here. I know they did for me._

_Keep in mind that I see both Ziva and Gibbs as deeply emotional people who normally keep that as far under the radar as possible for various reasons, not the least of which is that they each feel out of their comfort zone in handling and sharing those emotions. To that extent, they are not OOC for me here, though I have pushed even my own boundaries in writing this as I have which is always interesting to me, even as it is challenging. I am optimistic that I have painted a picture that allows you to see them as I do, but if not, feel free to give this a pass._

_The ending will be up soon, hopefully today or tomorrow. Thanks for reading!  
_

* * *

"_El Al Flight 324 to Tel Aviv now boarding at Gate 37."_

Ziva David sat in the waiting area for that airline in the seat furthest away from the attendant's desk, the same seat in which she'd been sitting since nearly three o'clock this morning. It was now 6:00 a.m.

She heard the call for passengers to start boarding, but made no move that would suggest she had.

As she had been for hours, she sat alone with her face turned toward the large windows, staring out at a sky that she had watched turn from impenetrable black to an early morning gray that looked as dismal as she felt. One arm clasped her backpack protectively to her chest as it rested in her lap, while she clutched her boarding pass in her other hand. She was unconsciously using enough force to wrinkle it.

She was supposed to get on that flight.

She didn't want to.

Her body may have been sitting in Dulles International Airport, but her mind was at NCIS. Her coworkers – _former_ coworkers she corrected herself almost harshly, ruthlessly cutting off the pang in her heart – would be getting in fairly soon. She tried to picture their various reactions when they found the notes she'd left for them. A formal letter for Director Vance; a heartfelt note for each of her friends: Tony, Tim, Abby, Ducky, Palmer.

A very different, yet even more heartfelt one for Jethro.

The tears she'd been fighting with varied success all night beaded silently down her cheeks as she once more lost the battle in holding them back. The need for his letter is what had started this whole course of events, though she wasn't angry at him. Quite the contrary.

She was in love with him and knew she always would be. The truth was, she had been in love with him long before they both admitted that they had feelings for each other that went beyond being friends and coworkers … one year ago today.

The fact that no one else knew did not diminish the affection between them in the least; just the opposite, in fact.

At least, in the beginning.

_Jethro_.

She closed her eyes tightly and fought to breathe. She felt as though she were suffocating, but did not know what other path to take besides this one she'd forged. She didn't really want to be on it, though, which is why she sat frozen as the others around her began boarding the plane for the long flight to Israel.

A tiny voice in her head tried to point out yet again that she should have tried harder to actually talk to Gibbs about all of this – especially about the reason that had suddenly driven her to know exactly how he saw their future playing out - rather than dropping hints about the conversation she wanted to have, hoping he would take her up on them. In her mind, if he ignored the subtle suggestions, it was because he didn't really want to talk about it or had nothing to say, and she wasn't secure enough about her place in his life to be more direct about it.

Such was the insidious nature of secrets – uncertainty slithered in, taking up residence in spaces you didn't even realize were there.

So, characteristically, she'd done what she'd been doing her whole life: stuffed down her emotions with an iron will and set about doing what she felt needed to be done, relying on no one but herself.

Uncharacteristically, she ran.

While she had some misgivings about doing so, her emotions had become overwhelming and at some point it had begun to feel impossible to turn back. Some of the steps she'd taken felt so … final. But now that this particular moment was upon her, she really wasn't sure she could actually get on that plane.

She should be happy to be going home, she berated herself silently. She hushed that voice again as it whispered that, while the country of her birth would always hold a special place in her heart, it was no longer home. That was here.

Or wherever Jethro happened to be.

He should be opening the letter she'd left for him soon. She had some apprehension about leaving it on the top of his desk given its personal nature, but had ultimately decided that it would look more circumspect if she did not treat his envelope as she had Tony's and Tim's on the off-chance Gibbs was not the first to arrive at work. Unable to stop herself, she read through it again in her mind as her heart felt like it was being squeezed by a fist. Despite the fact that her actions were carrying her away from him, she had chosen to leave with as much honesty as she could.

_Dear Jethro,_

_Leaving here – leaving you – is the second hardest thing I have ever done. It turns out that the hardest thing was waiting, hoping that you would want a lasting relationship with me. I must face the fact that it would seem you do not._

_I do not blame you for that. It is not a crime to be settled into your life as it is and it is not your fault that I am apparently not someone with whom you could see forever._

_I wanted to be, though – more than you will ever know._

_The time we have spent together away from work over this past year has been the happiest of my life. There were times I wondered how no one else could notice, positive that the feelings l have for you must be beaming out of me, too much to be contained._

_So often I wanted to shout from the rooftops how much I love you, how beyond lucky I felt that you loved me back. I understand your reasons for keeping our relationship just between us and for the longest time I truly did not mind guarding such a secret. In some ways, it was exciting and connected us even further – you and me together, everyone else apart. However, it is too difficult for me to live that way any longer and I would never force you to be open about us, even if I could._

_Besides, if you really wanted the others to know, they already would._

_Continuing to keep this to ourselves indefinitely does not seem possible and so I can only conclude that you do not see us as … something permanent. I find I am not strong enough to continue as we are, sitting beside you every day, sleeping beside you most every night, waiting for the day that your life moves in a different direction without me. Apparently I have become as weak as my father believes I have._

_There is so much more I could say, but it does not seem to really matter at this point. So, rather than the words I thought – had hoped – I would be wishing you on this day, I will simply say that I hope you find what you need to be truly happy and know that no matter where you are, no matter where I am, you are loved. Always._

_Ziva_

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs leaned back in his chair at NCIS looking as completely shell-shocked as he felt, his heart thudding almost painfully somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach. _Ziva._ She was gone. Just like that. How had this happened? How in the hell had he missed it?

As he thought over the last few weeks, he was forced to admit that he hadn't. True to form, he'd just avoided opening a conversation about whatever seemed to be going on with her, hoping things would go back to normal.

Well, as normal as things got when you were involved in a clandestine relationship with someone you loved more than your own life despite the fact that it broke one of your own rules and probably a whole host of agency guidelines, as well. NCIS had gotten serious about sexual harassment in the workplace. While neither he nor Ziva felt in the least bit harassed, he wasn't sure Vance or the Human Resources manager would see it that way, especially since he was her supervisor.

He replayed the recent past in his head. A couple of months ago, Ziva had begun pointing out that the lease on her apartment would be up soon … today, he realized with a start. His only response had been _You'll renew it, right?_

Now he acknowledged the sadness that had briefly crossed her beautiful brown eyes before being quickly hidden. She had never really answered.

His thoughts at the time had been purely selfish. They spent most of their time together at her place and it had come to feel more like home to him than his own house. He loved the way it reflected her, the way it smelled like her, the fact that they were less likely to be interrupted – _caught_ – there … and that it had no ghosts.

Over time, they really only stayed at his house when he needed to spend time in his basement with the feel of wood under his hands. She always seemed to know when he needed that and whether it was a time for her company there or not. In fact, she generally figured all that out before he did.

Now he wondered if she'd been trying to get at something else … like maybe living together?

He'd determined long ago that that was not a possibility, no matter how much he wanted it. A secret relationship wouldn't remain secret if that happened. Therefore, he had shoved even the thought of that away and was ashamed now to admit that he'd left it there, out of reach.

Gibbs had the sense that something else had also happened within the last few weeks beyond her lease coming up for renewal, but he couldn't put his finger on what. She'd gradually grown more distant and while the only night they'd spent together in the last couple of weeks had been filled with mind-blowing sex, there had been more than a hint of desperation about it. They hadn't been able to get enough of each other and she'd absorbed him through each one of her senses in a manner that felt intentional … as though she were memorizing every facet of that time together.

That alone should have forced his head out of the sand, but he'd allowed himself to chalk it up to the fact that back-to-back difficult, time-consuming cases had seriously depleted the time they could spend alone together lately. They had simply needed to steep themselves in each other, or so he'd thought. Apparently there had been more to it … and he'd known that on some level.

She'd also disappeared a couple of times this week, but DiNozzo always had an answer for that when asked. Jethro's gut had told him Tony was covering for her and he should investigate that more, but he'd used the demands of the case and lack of personal time to avoid that, too.

But there was absolutely no excuse for his actions – well, lack thereof – a few hours ago. They'd finally closed their most recent case. Around midnight he'd sent everyone home to get some sleep, telling them to finish their reports in the morning. He'd even grabbed his own stuff and followed DiNozzo and McGee to the elevator. When Ziva had made no move to pack up her things, he'd stopped and looked at her over the wall beside her desk.

"You comin'?"

She'd shaken her head.

"I have a few things to take care of," she'd husked. Her voice had sounded a little off, but he didn't figure out until too late that she was forcing the words past a lump in her throat. "You go ahead."

"Boss?" Tony called from the elevator that he and Tim were holding for Gibbs.

"Go on," she'd directed a little more firmly with a smile that he now interpreted as a little sad, even remote. "Goodbye … Gibbs."

He'd had the feeling she'd wanted to use his first name, but she never did that at work. He also sensed again that he was missing something important and realized he was going to have to overcome his instinctive reticence and ask her about it.

Truthfully, he was worried he was losing her and didn't really want to face that fact, even though he'd been waiting subconsciously for that to happen ever since they'd become lovers. Why would a young, vibrant woman like Ziva stay with him when she could be with anyone she wanted?

While he wanted nothing more than to marry her and really make a life with her - the rules be damned - he hadn't been able to sentence her to that … but hadn't been able to let her go, either. That was him being selfish again.

After being with Ziva, he looked back over his three failed marriages and understood that he'd been searching for something that felt permanent in his life again, but had jumped the gun. He should have waited for her, even though she deserved more than a cranky old bastard who now had a terrible track record at long-term relationships.

However, work was not the place for such a personal conversation. Despite his fears of the outcome, he'd do it at home where there was no chance of being overheard.

"Night, Ziver," he'd quietly said instead of a host of other things he could have said. "See you soon -?"

Those last words were full of hidden meaning and he was waiting for the signal they'd devised for confirming whether they'd be at her place or if this would be a night they would spend at his.

Without looking at him, she'd just shaken her head.

"Not tonight," she'd breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

_Never again_ she thought to herself, her heart breaking.

Something inside him stilled, but before he could say anything she'd added truthfully, "I am tired."

"'kay," he'd replied hesitantly. "See you tomorrow."

He now remembered that she'd never responded to that beyond a faint curve to her lips that hadn't reached her eyes.

Now he knew why.

He cursed himself for going on home, for standing in the shower until the water ran cold before he noticed that her shampoo, conditioner and body wash were now missing from there. His tired brain had kicked into gear, his heart tripping. He'd quickly dried off and tried not to panic when a quick look revealed that her toothbrush was also gone. He wrapped the towel around his hips and headed into the bedroom, already knowing what he would find and dreading it. Sure enough, the drawer he'd cleaned out for her so she could keep some clothes there was empty, as was the one area of the closet that he'd reserved for her. Her book on the table at her side of the bed was gone.

With every discovery, his pulse pounded harder and faster in his ears.

If not for the picture of the two of them on his dresser that she'd managed to snap one weekend, it might have seemed she'd never been there at all.

Wait.

There had been a second picture. But the place where it normally sat was now as empty as her drawer.

She must have taken it with her. That had to mean something.

Didn't it?

Grabbing his phone, he called her as he threw on jeans and a shirt. The only response was her voice mail.

He was down the stairs and in his truck in a flash. All the way to her place, he kept calling. Still no answer.

He parked hurriedly outside her apartment, frowning when he didn't see her car in her assigned spot. Glancing up at her windows, he saw only darkness, but sent a plea to the heavens that she was inside.

She wasn't.

In fact, he got the shock of his life when he let himself in using the keys she'd given him only to find her place completely empty – of everything.

It was like she'd erased herself from here, too.

He continued calling her phone even after he realized it was futile as he drove by Abby's, Tim's, Tony's, hoping to find her car. He hesitated to wake them as he didn't know how to explain why he was looking for Ziva in the middle of the night. In his current state of mind, he was certain they would know right away that something more was going on than searching for a coworker or even a friend, one who'd been perfectly fine when they left work just a couple of hours ago.

The ingrained habits of secrecy were hard to break.

When he didn't find her car at any of their places, he'd driven to NCIS hoping to find her there.

Unbeknownst to him, he'd missed her by about an hour.

However, the fact that her desk was cleared of anything personal and the letter she'd left on the center of his had been impossible to miss.

That brought him back to the present, feeling like he'd been pole-axed.

Hang on a minute … something niggled at him about the end of her letter. He reread it. There it was. " … _rather than the words I thought – had hoped – I would be wishing you on this day …" _What did she mean?

Then he looked at the date at the top of the note again and it hit him. A year ago today – now that it was after midnight - was the day their relationship had changed. It was their anniversary.

He hadn't remembered that, he admitted honestly. His stomach clenched. Jesus, could he have screwed up any more?

Gibbs sat for an uncharacteristically long time, rereading the letter and reflecting on everything. During his second read, he detected what had to be splotches from tears smearing the ink in places. He hoped that meant she hadn't really wanted to write it.

He'd noticed that the guys each had a similar envelope and now he couldn't stop himself from calling them in. Maybe their notes would indicate where she'd gone. If they didn't, he'd need McGee's help in tracking her down.

All he had to say to each of them was "Ziva's gone" and both young men were there as quickly as possible. They were bleary-eyed, but clearly worried.

Their notes contained no clue as to where she was headed, but said goodbye and how much she'd miss them, how much their friendship had meant to her.

McGee tried to track her cell even without being asked, but had to tell Gibbs it was turned off. No luck there, but he set up a trace on it anyway in case she turned it on.

He also checked the NCIS security cameras with Gibbs hovering over his shoulder, but they didn't see her car leave. The cameras didn't cover every nook and cranny or even every exit, so Tony ran to the garage. Unfortunately, he could only report back that her car wasn't there.

Wait – there she was leaving through the front door. Going back earlier in the day in the recorded footage, they saw her enter through that same door that morning rather than coming in through the garage entrance. How had she gotten to work that morning?

Gibbs checked with the security guard downstairs who confirmed that Ziva had left the building around 2 a.m. through the front door. The man had watched until she was safely in a cab. Tony got on the phone with the taxi service, thankful the guard had noticed which company had picked her up. Unfortunately, he ran into one of those dispatchers who believed in privacy for his customers unless a warrant was involved. McGee began a facial recognition search involving all the traffic cameras in the area. It was a long-shot, but he didn't want to leave a stone unturned. Time flew as all three men worked to locate Ziva.

Gibbs had a sudden thought.

Surely not.

Still …

"McGee," he barked and the young man looked up.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Check flights. Start with those heading to Israel."

Tim's eyes grew large at his leader's directive.

"Gibbs, you don't think –"

Jethro cut him off.

"Don't know what to think, McGee," he sighed. "But have to consider it."

Before long, the tech wizard discovered that Gibbs' gut had been on target. Ziva was booked on a flight to Tel Aviv that was scheduled to leave Dulles in forty-five minutes. It would take Gibbs close to that to reach the airport.

Gibbs immediately grabbed his keys, along with the badge and gun he'd brought out of habit and made for the elevator at a fast clip.

"DiNozzo! Call that airline and do whatever you have to to ground that plane or slow it down," he ordered over his shoulder as the doors opened.

Hesitating, he blocked the doors so they couldn't close and called out, "Tim?"

He waited for his agent to look up at him, surprise at the use of his first name written on his face.

"Thanks. Good work. Both of you."

"Sure, Boss," McGee returned reflexively, further surprised by the compliment. Then his voice firmed. "Just bring her back, all right? We need her."

"Yeah, we do," Gibbs agreed with feeling.

Just before the doors closed, Jethro stepped out from behind the safety and security of his rules and admitted out loud, "_I_ need her."

And he'd never told her.

The doors _whooshed_ shut, leaving two very confused agents staring at each other.

"Did he just say what I think he said?" Tony asked.

"Yes, Tony," McGee advised. "I believe he did."

As Tim thought about the possibilities behind Gibbs' words, a little satisfied smile curved his lips.

"Good for them. Those two are perfect for each other." McGee went back to his desk, feeling a juvenile kick of pleasure that he'd actually rendered Tony momentarily speechless until he urged him, "You'd better stop that plane."

The senior agent was on it. He could grill Probie on his comment afterwards. _How the heck had he missed __that__?_

In the garage, Gibbs quickly ate up the distance to his truck in long, hurried strides that turned into a running jog. He pulled out his phone and called Vance as he peeled out of the garage.

"Yeah, Leon," he said when the director answered. "Gonna be gone for a while; not sure how long."

"I hope it has something to do with the manila envelope I just found on my desk containing a badge, a gun, an ID, a phone and the politest damn resignation letter I've ever read," Vance responded.

_Hell._

Gibbs sighed.

"Has everything to do with that," he admitted.

"Take what time you need," Leon said, "but don't come back empty-handed."

"Leon, that letter –" Jethro began.

"What letter?" Vance interrupted. "You mean the one that just accidently fell into my shredder?"

Despite the seriousness of the circumstances, Gibbs felt the side of his mouth tug up in a ghost of his usual smile.

"Good luck, Agent Gibbs." Then, for once, someone hung up on the team leader first as Leon signed off.

Jethro appreciated the sentiment. He had a feeling he was going to need it.


	2. Into The Sunshine

_A/N: As promised, here's the end. It's a bit of a marathon, not a sprint. I hope this one touches you, as well, as it touched me.  
_

_I would like to say thank you to all of you who have put this story on alert and in your favorites; I prefer to do that individually as I do with reviews, but RL is cramping my time these days and so that may not be possible. Please consider yourselves thanked with a side of HUGS. =)  
_

_I really do appreciate all of you who have joined me on this emotional journey that took me by surprise. This story is near and dear to my heart. Next up will (hopefully!) be a return to "Waves of Grace" before Ziva runs out of patience with me! :p  
_

* * *

_Back at Dulles International Airport_

Ziva clutched the neckline of the t-shirt she wore beneath a buttoned-up jacket, swiping at the tears on her cheeks with her other hand. She felt a little guilty about the shirt as it was one of Jethro's old NIS ones, apparently one he'd worn recently. She shouldn't have taken it when she collected her things from his house, but she hadn't been able to help herself.

She'd heard the announcements for boarding the plane, but couldn't make herself move. The feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach was nearly making her ill. Her thoughts and emotions had been in a tailspin for weeks and they had suddenly swung back to the point that she really should have talked to Jethro, should have tried harder. She knew that in her heart, but had she already blown her chance to do so?

The airline attendant made the last call for boarding and then looked over at Ziva, who still hadn't moved. She'd been surprised to find a passenger already there waiting when she'd arrived at work at three o'clock in the morning. She'd checked Ziva in and asked if she needed anything, but Ziva had just shaken her head. She had then sat silently since, keeping completely to herself, clearly very emotional but with a stillness that was almost eerie. Now, it was time to get on the plane or this passenger would miss her flight. She walked over to where Ziva was seated.

"Ms. David?" the woman asked gently. "You must board the plane now if you are going to make your flight."

"She's not gonna," a masculine voice said in a low rumble. "Not if I can help it."

The attendant looked up, surprised to find a silver-haired man standing nearby.

Ziva closed her eyes. Terrific. Not only did her heart feel like it was breaking in two and her eyes would _not_ stop leaking tears, now she was hearing voices. Jethro's voice.

Wishful thinking could be a powerful thing, apparently.

Gibbs favored the attendant with his most charming smile and flashed his badge for good measure. After all, the shield had gotten him this far inside the airport. "Think you could buy us a little time?"

Something about him and about the way Ms. David stilled even further when she heard his voice a second time made the attendant want to go along with his request.

With a small smile, she said, "I'll see what I can do."

She walked back to the desk and quietly called her boyfriend who worked down in the baggage loading area. She talked him into coming up with a reason to check the bags again before the plane departed; in this age of heightened security, that wouldn't be difficult. She also suggested that he try to find the two pieces of checked luggage for one Ziva David as she had a hunch neither Ziva nor her clothing would be traveling to Israel.

Thanking the heavens that he'd found her before she left, Gibbs moved around and crouched down in front of the woman he loved.

"Hey," he said softly, carefully. She looked so fragile sitting there, like she might break at any moment. He never associated that with her. It raised every protective fiber in his being even as it scared the hell out of him.

Ziva tried to draw even further into herself, leaning as far away from him as the back of the seat would allow. Despite the fact that she'd almost decided to go back and talk to him, panic suddenly rose in her throat. She wasn't ready yet, wasn't composed enough.

And she knew if she touched him, she'd never get on that plane no matter how the discussion they needed to have turned out.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered in a voice husky with the tears she'd already shed and the ones yet to fall.

"Coming after you," he said firmly, but gently. "What're you doing here?"

She threw him a disbelieving glance that quickly bounced off him.

"I was leaving," she stated obviously, her tone so low he had to strain to hear it.

She didn't even notice her use of the past tense, but he latched onto it like a lifeline.

"Why?" he asked simply.

She did not answer him at first, then said in a voice that broke his heart, "I am afraid I do not belong here any longer."

She sniffed, trying to hold the tears back again and still wouldn't look at him.

He laid one finger on the side of her hand that was clutching her boarding pass desperately and rubbed gently back and forth.

"Then why aren't you on the plane to Israel yet?"

At that, she lost the battle with holding back her tears and they rolled down her cheeks.

"Because I do not belong there anymore either," she revealed in a breaking voice that brought a lump of emotion to his own throat.

When he could speak, he said, "Kinda thought you belonged with me."

She swiped at her cheeks again and whispered, "So did I."

"What changed?" he asked, crowding a little more into her personal space.

She just shook her head and tried to lean even further away, but she was already as close to the back of the seat as she could get. There was a desperation about not touching him that he found … interesting. So he touched her, fully opening the hand that had reached out to her and closing it over hers completely. She couldn't help but stare at where they were now connected and she didn't pull her hand away. That gave him hope.

When she stayed silent, he decided it was time to put himself out there.

"Don't want you to leave," he told her. She closed her eyes again against the pain she didn't want him to see. "Tell me what I did, Ziva; I'll do whatever I have to to make it up to you."

She didn't answer at first, then revealed, "You did not _do_ anything."

Just the opposite, actually.

"Talk to me, Ziver," he ordered quietly. Or was it begged?

"I said everything in the letter."

"Not everything," he pointed out. "Left out how you got the idea I don't want something permanent with you, why you took off instead of talking about it."

She felt a pang of guilt. He was right. But in the stormy, unsettling midst of her pain and uncertainty, she just hadn't been able to do it differently.

She shrugged lightly, not sure she could say the words that needed to be said. That wasn't any more her strong point than it was his.

"Tell me."

Looking down at their hands, she gave him part of it.

"I suppose I began to feel that if you wanted a future with me, you would have suggested moving in together when my lease was up," she admitted. "And I do not see how I can stay if you see us as only … temporary."

"Figured living together wasn't possible or everyone would know," he replied slowly, trying hard not to misstep. From the sad look on her face, he missed that mark.

"That is true," she agreed in a deceptively neutral voice.

Gibbs wasn't stellar at this relationship business, but he wasn't stupid either.

"You want them to know," he realized, his heart beating faster. Maybe she wanted to be saddled with a cranky old bastard after all …

She nodded.

"I want more than that," she dared to whisper, unaware of how closely her words mirrored his thoughts.

"What?" he asked faintly.

"Everything," she revealed sadly, finally looking up at him. "Forever."

He was so shocked to hear her say it out loud that he couldn't speak for a moment. She took his silence for something else.

"It is all right, Jethro," she tried to assure him through the tears that started up again, looking back down at where his hand still covered hers. "I understand that you do not, that you ought to have someone more than me if you ever even want that again at all."

Now he was beyond stunned. Had they arrived at this place because they'd both wanted forever, yet had been so certain that the other deserved more in a partner that they'd been quick to assume the worst while waiting for the other shoe to drop?

Sigh.

Sort of. They'd actually gotten here because they hadn't talked to each other – not about the hard stuff, the risky stuff. They were both all too adept at avoiding that.

Ziva was still clutching the neckline of the t-shirt she was wearing and she raised it to wipe at her tears. He could now see enough to recognize it. That gave him more hope than anything else so far that what they had created together was still there between them, could still be saved.

"That's my shirt," he said, seemingly off topic.

Ziva's back straightened defensively.

"I will mail it back," she informed him in a flat voice.

"That's not gonna work," he denied, leaning in to brush his nose lightly along her cheek. Her breath caught in her throat and he felt a sense of satisfaction as he heard it.

"I am sorry," she began distantly. "I do not have anything else –"

He shook his head, looking at her clearly but tenderly. "Only want it back if you're in it."

"I should not have taken it," was her only response, dodging his comment.

He leaned in even closer and murmured his words against her ear. "Why did you?"

Her heart was pounding. _Oh, God._ Even if it ended up being for the best, she'd never be able to leave, to release him if he kept touching her.

"Ziver?" he nudged, not moving an inch. "Why did you?"

"Because it smelled like you," she breathed out with painful honesty, closing her eyes.

She felt him smile against her ear before he brushed a butterfly-soft kiss across her cheek. Pulling back, he cupped her face in his hand. If she'd have lifted her lids, she'd have seen him looking at her with love.

"If you stay, you can smell me all the time," he pointed out, leaning in to bump her nose teasingly with his.

A choked noise that was strangled somewhere between a sob and a chuckle left her throat, before she reminded him dejectedly, "If I stay, I will want more than that."

"Maybe I do, too," he suggested.

Her eyes flew open to find his and her lips parted soundlessly.

"Even –" she stopped, looking away from him.

"Even what?" he asked.

She didn't answer and wouldn't look at him. He tried to remove the barrier of her backpack from between them, but she reflexively clutched it more tightly.

With an internal sigh, Gibbs tipped his forehead to hers.

"Something's been going on with you, 'specially the last month or so," he said quietly. "Figured I was losing you like I always knew I would. Didn't really want to know that, so I just waited, hoping like hell I was wrong and things would go back to normal." He huffed out his frustration at himself and then his voice softened. "But the letter … what you're telling me now … doesn't really sound like you want to be rid of me."

"I do not," she croaked out, her tears falling more freely, too caught up in her own pain to notice that he'd been expecting to lose her all along, as she had been with him.

Jethro searched his brain for the right response. An angry, pissed-off Ziva he understood, knew how to handle. This emotional Ziva … he was in uncharted waters here.

Maybe he needed to get out of his head and open his heart.

"Then tell me what's going on." Gibbs came as close to pleading as he ever got. "You're killing me here."

His voice was becoming thick with emotion, too, which was perhaps the final straw. She found she simply couldn't hold her distance any longer and she really didn't want to. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of her sadness. Her forehead fell onto his shoulder and she finally allowed him to place her backpack on the floor beside them.

"About a month ago, my period was late," she whispered emotionally. He was astounded and she could feel it in the way his body stiffened. Her heart broke a little more, if that was possible and she lifted her head away from him. "There was a time in my life when that was not all that unusual, but that has not been the case for some time now."

The silence practically screamed between them.

"You're –" he breathed, unable to finish the sentence. She mistook the reason as to why, but knew what he couldn't quite say.

She shook her head, her head still bowed, a barely-there sob escaping her chest. Through his shock, the weight of her despair settled over him, nearly crushing his heart. He was trying to wade through the maelstrom of emotions coming off both of them, attempting to make sense of what was going on.

"Were you?" he whispered hesitantly, some part of him already aching if her answer was yes, but that she no longer was. He gathered her to him and she finally let him.

She shook her head again, this time against his shoulder. Her silent tears were soaking the neckline of his shirt, but he didn't even notice. Tunneling one hand into her hair until he was cradling her scalp, he tugged her face up until he could see it. She refused to look at him until he softly, so gently, commanded her to.

The pain and the utter yearning he saw in those tear-drenched brown depths nearly staggered him.

"You wanted to be," he realized faintly.

Her eyes dropped to the floor again. She nodded, her face crumpling.

"Ziver," he breathed out tenderly, hugging her close again and resting the side of his face against her hair. While some things were still murky, a few things were becoming clearer. They weren't out of the woods yet, but at least he was now fairly certain she didn't want to leave him, not really.

Sliding one arm under her knees and tightening the other where it rested around her shoulders, he stood in one fluid movement, cradling her in his arms. She might punch him for it, but he just couldn't not hold her any longer regardless of the fact that they were in public.

Somewhat to his surprise, her left hand came up and gripped the side of his neck as she buried her face more closely against him – the opposite of pulling away.

He took two steps to a row of seats not separated by arms so they had more room. He sat, holding her across his lap, moving his right arm from beneath her knees to curve over her hip, around to her back. His touch was gentle, but firm enough to let her know she wasn't going anywhere without a fight. He just held her without speaking, sensing they both needed the healing power of holding onto each other.

Gibbs could still feel her tears, her shoulders slightly shaking, but she didn't make a sound. His heart ached for the little girl who had learned to cry silently, all alone.

At last, she began to relax into him, almost collapsing, really.

God, she'd needed this, needed him.

But she'd been so off-balance, she'd been afraid to tell him that. And what on earth would she have done if he didn't want to be needed that way?

The El Al desk was down a side hall off the main concourse. There were no other flights scheduled soon, so this area of the airport was blessedly quiet and free from crowds. Gibbs was glad for the illusion of privacy, but it wouldn't have mattered to him if the whole damn world was watching.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. She heard just a hint of the pain he felt over the fact that she hadn't been able to.

With a silent sigh of surrender, she finally opened up.

"At first, I was so surprised by the mere possibility …" she began quietly. "No - surprised is not a strong enough word. My head would not stop spinning and my heart was all over the place. And then I began to worry you would be upset … perhaps even angry. I was fairly certain you did not wish to have more children and I could not blame you, not with everything you have been through."

She paused.

He could tell there was more.

"And?"

After what seemed an interminable period of silence, she admitted in a very, very low voice, "And I was scared."

"Of what?" he prodded as cautiously as though he were walking on eggshells, knowing firsthand what it had cost her to admit that.

"Of how much I needed you … of how much I wanted a baby that was not even there."

"Sure there's no baby?" he asked hesitantly.

She nodded.

"The tests I could not help but take kept coming back negative and then, within a week or so, I started my period."

There. Now he knew what had happened … how she felt … what she secretly longed for.

She tried to brace herself for his reaction. But, even though she expected the worst, she just didn't have it in her to put her guard back up. She was so, so tired. Carrying all of this around, then spending what energy she had on trying to leave had left her with little in the way of reserve strength.

"Know I don't make it easy on you, but still don't understand why you decided to leave rather than talk to me," he admitted, pressing his lips against her forehead.

"I had so much _feeling, _I could not even think straight -!" Suddenly agitated, the words practically burst out of her. Tension formed in her limbs and her hands started waving about as she talked. She even tried to sit up straighter as her body had the urge to pace. The only things that kept her in his lap were her bone-deep exhaustion and the tenderness in the gentle circles he began massaging into her back, unconsciously attempting to soothe her – soothe them both.

"I never even knew I wanted to have a child and then I did _so much_ and then my heart was hurting as though I had lost one – which made absolutely no sense in my head because I had not even been pregnant." Now that she had started talking, her words came quickly, practically bumping into each other on the way out of her mouth. The bewilderment running through her pain was impossible to miss. He couldn't help but hug her a little tighter.

"I realized I wanted that and more with you, but how could this be permanent between us if we could not even manage to talk about living together? I do not wish to become someone who asks for more than you can give – someone who might even beg for it … someone we would both despise." Her voice became bleak, slowed down. "So, I decided to take care of things before it came to that point."

Her voice took on a brittle edge.

"Besides, I always knew you would move on with someone else someday. I was just grateful that I had you while I did, but all of a sudden … waiting on you to leave me felt like a slow, painful death," she revealed honestly.

She dipped her head and he almost couldn't catch what she added. "But I do not think I can actually leave you first, after all."

She ran out of words and sat there feeling like an emotional mess. She hated feeling that way. It was what had driven her to take herself in hand and stand on her own rather than lean on him in the first place.

He considered all she'd said for a moment. Finally, he released an audible sigh and tightened his grip on her.

"Always thought you'd be better off with someone else, but maybe we deserve each other after all," he finally observed wryly, shaking his head a little. "Both of us not good at talking and sure the other one would leave."

At his words, she finally lifted her head and looked into his eyes. Her own gaze revealed shock, while his was a mix of emotions that he didn't try to hide.

"First of all, wouldn't have been mad if you'd been pregnant." He stared down at her flat stomach and slid his hand over it. "Kinda the opposite, I think – well, after the surprised part."

He smiled into her eyes with so much love, it took her breath away. Perhaps she'd been wrong about what he wanted …

And wouldn't that just be life-changingly wonderful?

His next words brought her full attention back to him.

"All along, been waitin' for you to come to your senses and realize you'd be better off with a younger man. Stopped myself from tying you to me permanently because you deserve better, but couldn't bring myself to let you go. Love you too much for that." He looked at her straight in the eye. "Need you too much."

"Jethro?" Ziva asked faintly, a tiny, tiny spark of hope igniting within her heart, which showed in her lovely brown eyes.

Resting his forehead against hers, he asked, "Tell me you still love me half as much as I love you - ? Really need to hear it."

Clutching his shirt until her knuckles turned white, Ziva husked, "I love you with everything that I am. I always will."

Pressing his lips to her forehead, all he could think was _Thank God_. Leaving his lips against her skin, he stepped out of his comfort zone a little further.

"Shoulda tried talking to you soon as my gut said something was wrong," he admitted. "'m sorry about that."

She looked up at him with gentle eyes that telegraphed her own apology. "I am the one who should be sorry – and I am."

He started to brush that off, certain if there was any blame to be laid here, the lion's share should be at his feet. However, Ziva shook her head and placed her fingertips over his lips.

"No, Jethro. This deserves an apology."

She took a deep breath and bared her soul a little further.

"I was wrong," she acknowledged, "wrong to leave without really talking to you. It was not fair of me to expect you to pick up on my hints or read my mind. I should have trusted you more; I should have trusted what we have together and run toward you rather than away. I can only say that the feelings I have for you are so completely new to me that I did not know how to handle them, but that is a very poor excuse. I am sorry and I would not blame you for needing time before you can forgive me for that."

Gibbs gazed into her face as she waited somewhat anxiously for his response.

"Made mistakes, too," he pointed out. "Maybe we can forgive each other and call it even - ?"

With a slow, beautiful curve to her lips, she nodded. Stretching up, she kissed him softly before snuggling into his throat.

He reflected on how right it felt to have her in his arms, in his life … in his heart. He wanted forever, too.

"Ziver?"

"Mmmmm?" she hummed without moving, resting trustingly in his arms.

He wanted to see her eyes, so he gently cupped her cheek and tilted her face to his. She looked up at him with a small smile. Her eyes were tired, but unguarded and her cheeks a little splotched from crying, but she'd never looked more beautiful to him.

With the all the relief he felt at having found her – and not just this morning – coupled with the kind of love that can only mean forever shining in his brilliant gaze, Gibbs asked her the one question Ziva had been certain she'd never hear from him.

"Will you marry me?"

Shock widened her eyes. Her heart stopped, then started up again double time.

"Do you mean that?" she whispered hoarsely, desperately wanting to believe he did.

He nodded.

"But – everyone will know," she pointed out, her pulse pounding.

"Mhm."

"Jethro, this was not about trying to force your hand in that way."

"I know."

"What about –" He cut her off with a brief hard kiss before she could say _work? T__he team_?

"You're the last person I ever thought I'd have to say this to, but would you stop talking and just answer the question?" His eyes twinkled faintly at her taking any sting out of the words, but she could see his uncertainty underneath the teasing, that he still half-expected that she might refuse him.

"We'll figure everything else out," he promised with a hint of how much he needed her running through his words. "Just say yes." He rested his forehead against hers again as his voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Please, Ziva."

Tightening her arms around him, Ziva drew in a shuddering, steadying breath. It felt like there was so much more to discuss, but maybe they had plenty of time for that.

A lifetime, hopefully.

Tilting her head back, she looked into those beautiful blue eyes of his. She had tears in hers again, but these were the happy kind.

"Yes," she husked, her stomach clenching and her heart pounding and her blood singing. "Yes!"

She clutched him to her, never wanting to let go. With a happy grin full of relief, he squeezed her hard and released the pent-up breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

Of one mind, one heart, they looked at each other, amazed yet grateful – so, so grateful - they had come to this point after all.

Slowly, their mouths came together, soft and gentle at first, then deepening into warm and sensual and feeling like forever. When they finally came up for air, she buried her face where his neck met his shoulder and they simply held each other, allowing a host of emotions to cascade through them.

Gibbs felt tears on her cheeks again and tilted his head to look down at her. Smoothing some of the moisture away with his thumb, he observed, "Never seen you cry this much. Sure you're not pregnant?"

Somehow his voice managed to be loving and teasing and … hopeful? … all at the same time.

He grinned inside when she punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"I am sure," she answered, wiping at her eyes.

"Gives us something to work toward then," he declared, with that single nod to the side that he did so well. Her heart gave a happy leap. Then he leaned in and put his lips against her ear, murmuring, "Not that I ever need a reason to get inside you every chance I get."

A silent gasp caught in her chest as her eyes darkened with desire and heat pooled at her center.

She looked at him longingly, then pulled his mouth to hers again, her tongue dipping into his mouth to tease his into coming out to play.

"Let's go home," he finally mumbled against her mouth while he could still stop himself from taking her right there.

Ziva was almost dizzy with the one hundred eighty-degree turn her morning had taken, but she nodded, her heart flying with happiness. Slowly, she climbed off his lap and held out her hand to him. As he stood, she realized her luggage might be on its way to Israel and they moved toward the desk. The attendant smiled at the couple and wheeled a couple of black bags around the corner.

"I thought you might be needing these rather than that," she shared, nodding her hand toward the boarding pass that Ziva still clutched in her hand.

Ziva's brow raised a little in surprise and then she smiled. "I am very happy to say you were right. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure," she assured them with a smile of her own.

The couple walked away, each pulling a bag so they could keep their arms wrapped around each other's waists while Ziva also managed to keep her backpack on one shoulder.

"So, when you disappeared a couple times this week, you were arranging all this?" he asked, wanting to fill in the gaps.

She nodded. "I hired a moving company to put my things in storage as I just did not know what else to do with them so quickly. After leaving the movers this afternoon, I stopped by your house to pick up my things there. I sold my car to my neighbor's grandson yesterday." She glanced up at him, needing to clarify something. "Do not be mad at Tony; he had no idea what I was doing. He asked, but I would not tell him."

"Liked your apartment," he told her softly. "Felt more like you, like us, than my house." She stopped in her tracks, stricken.

"Jethro - "

He interrupted her with a small smile. "'s okay." Bending, he rubbed his nose against hers and laid a hand on her hip, squeezing gently, rubbing his thumb over her tummy. "Gonna need more room, anyway."

The glowing smile that bloomed on her face could have powered all of DC.

"How about we put your furniture in my house, make it ours, until we decide if we want to stay there or find a new place together?" he asked softly.

Ziva had not thought any more happiness could fill her heart, but she'd been wrong. Dropping her backpack and releasing her hold on her luggage, Ziva wrapped both arms around the man she loved – the man she was going to marry – and leaned into him completely. Unable to speak at first, she simply nodded, her face buried in his chest.

"Would you mind …" She stopped, shook her head, mumbled about something being stupid.

"Mind what?" he asked, tipping her face up.

Forcing herself to step further out onto that emotional limb that left her feeling so vulnerable, she shared, "I felt so sad leaving my apartment, partly because of all the memories we made there. I do not want that to be the way I remember it. The place is still technically mine through today … perhaps we could stop there on the way home?"

She didn't completely explain why, but she didn't have to.

"So we can say goodbye to it together," he finished for her. "In a good way."

She blushed lightly and averted her eyes, a little embarrassed, but nodded her head. It felt right to say goodbye to one chapter of their relationship and hello to another. Together.

"Can't think of a better way to spend our anniversary," he informed her warmly.

Her eyes lit up and came back to his when she realized he'd remembered, bringing out his characteristic smile. Then his eyes took on a devilish twinkle.

"Well, can think of _one_ way, but we can still do that after."

A sexy grin curved her lips as she reached up and nuzzled his throat. "Or during."

Her teeth scraped against his skin, causing a low noise to leave his throat.

"No furniture," he pointed out, unable to think clearly with her mouth on him.

"It would not be the first time you have taken me up against the wall," she reminded him in a sultry tone. "And hopefully it will not be the last."

He groaned and his body hardened. He captured her lips in a kiss that spun out, connecting them on every level.

As they started to come up for air, Ziva murmured against his lips, "Happy anniversary." Then she tilted her head back just far enough to smile up into his eyes, thrilled to be wishing him those words after all. "To both of us."

Jethro squeezed her hard in agreement and then plucked her boarding pass out of her pocket where she'd shoved it. As she watched him stuff it in his own, Ziva's brow furrowed in question.

"Gonna frame this to remind me what I almost lost today by not talking to you when I should have," he explained.

Her heart melted and it showed on her face.

"It will remind us both," she pledged, pulling on his shirt until she could reach his mouth for a soft kiss.

"Promise me something?" he murmured, pulling back to cup her face in his hand and gaze into her eyes.

"If I can," she responded, wanting to say _anything_ but knowing herself better than that.

"Next time I screw up, kick my ass instead of buying a plane ticket?" he asked dryly, certain he'd surely mess up again at some point.

Her eyes gleamed as a light laugh left her throat. "Now that I can promise," she swore with a teasing lilt to her voice. Then her tone warmed, gentled. "Will you promise me the same?"

He nodded, that half-smile of his tugging at one corner of his mouth. Squeezing her in even closer, he dropped a kiss to her hair. Fully relaxing for the first time in weeks, Ziva breathed out a sigh of gratitude and hugged him back.

She leaned her head back, considering him. "What would you have done if I had already been on my way to Israel?"

"Been on the next plane after you," he said without a hint of doubt in his voice.

"Though it is more than I deserve, I love that answer," she breathed, her eyes sparkling.

Grinning, their mouths came together again, losing themselves in the physical connection that spoke volumes about their emotional one.

"Well, Probie," a voice said from nearby, "looks like he found her."

Ziva and Gibbs froze.

"Actually, my dear Anthony," Ducky drawled, "I would say they have found each other."

Gibbs recovered before Ziva did, lifting his mouth from hers to glance over at the group of friends staring at them. Then he looked back down at the woman he loved to find her eyes wide with a worry that was edging into panic. He dropped a brief, reassuring kiss to her lips.

"Looks like we don't have to figure out how to tell the team," he pointed out almost casually.

Ziva swallowed hard and closed her eyes. "How do they look?" she whispered.

"See for yourself," he encouraged her.

Laying her head against his chest, Ziva slowly turned her face to peek at their friends. When she saw nothing but grins, she relaxed and smiled in relief. Abby took that as her cue and ran over in her adorable clomping stride to wrap her arms around them both.

After a few moments, she pulled back and narrowed her eyes at Ziva. "Don't ever scare me like that again, do you hear me?"

"Yes, Abby," Ziva assured her.

"And, you." The scientist leveled a look at Gibbs. "No more secrets. Deal?"

"Deal, Abbs," he vowed, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

The rest of the gang swarmed around, questions overlapping hugs overlapping more questions.

Gibbs sensed someone moving purposely toward them and looked up, eyes narrowing slightly. He relaxed when he saw it was Leon, but quirked a brow at Tony.

"You brought the Director?" he questioned, clearly surprised.

"Brought him?" Tony snorted. "He drove!"

Ziva's eyes went wide with surprise and Gibbs' characteristic smile tugged at his lips once more.

Remembering the nature of the very formal letter she'd left on the Director's desk, Ziva's heart sank.

"Jethro," she whispered urgently, clutching him. She glanced at Vance, then looked up at the man she loved, clearly worried.

He gave her a reassuring squeeze. "It'll be all right." She looked doubtful. "Trust me."

She steadied herself with a breath and leaned into him at his words, her gaze fixed on him with certainty. "I do."

When Leon joined the group, he eyed Ziva and Gibbs, presenting his usual neutral, controlled façade. "Agent Gibbs. Agent David." He stressed Ziva's title.

She opened her mouth, then closed it without saying a word.

"I believe these belong to you." Vance handed Ziva an envelope she recognized.

"Director," she began, but he didn't let her finish.

"I think you'll find everything there," he continued. "Well, except for a certain piece of paper that had an unfortunate encounter with my shredder." Then his brown eyes gleamed with insider information. "Or fortunate, depending on how you look at it."

"Definitely fortunate," Gibbs put in.

"Definitely," Ziva agreed softly gazing up at him with clear adoration.

Tony made a noise of mock disgust.

"You know we're gonna need some details here, but first - just how long are you two going to be all mushy in front of us?" he asked in a long-suffering tone.

He was playing his part as expected, but inside, he was happy for both of them. Ziva could tell and she squeezed his forearm in appreciation.

Gibbs didn't waste words with his response, but judging from the look of sheer joy and agreement beaming from Ziva's face, he picked exactly the right answer.

"Permanently."

_~The End~_


End file.
